


鬼ノ花嫁 (The Demon's Bride)

by velvetcat09



Category: Gintama
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon Compliant, Joui War, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29064588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcat09/pseuds/velvetcat09
Summary: Hijikata bowed and introduced himself. “Hijikata Toushirou, Shiroyasha-dono’s bride and soon-to-be wife. Pleased to meet you.”Gintoki spluttered on his drink while Takasugi’s laughter got louder.===========Shiroyasha/Ponikata AU
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Comments: 18
Kudos: 180





	鬼ノ花嫁 (The Demon's Bride)

**Author's Note:**

> 鬼ノ花嫁 (Oni no Hanayome) = The Demon's Bride
> 
> based off the a plot bunny from [Penn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walang_Tinta/pseuds/Penn) that took off into this long because i couldn't help myself from the excitement 
> 
> this fic is canon-compliant, more or less. 
> 
> i have to put it forward that the conversation and general direction of the writings in this fic is mostly written in the japanese translation in mind, so if it comes awkward or a bit off, well, you know why  
> and also can't forget to mention syakku's dj as inspiration (particularly Hi ga Tobu, Oni to Shio, and Sono Hoshi wa Ochita) for the direction of the characters. i love syakku's ginhiji interpretation so much, the way they portrayed the tug of their relationship is so good  
> feel free to ask for explanation or such if you didn't understand something in the fic! 
> 
> enjoy!

“Toushirou, I’m so sorry.”

There was no apology. Tamegorou didn’t say anything like that. Tamegorou didn’t say anything. It was because Tamegorou didn’t know anything. 

The rest of the Hijikata family, his relatives who hated his gut and wanted nothing to do with him—sold him the moment another family was interested in a bride. They sold him without Tamegorou’s knowledge, transported him from the Hijikata household when Tamegorou was out of town. He was only twelve, what else could he have known or do.

He was betrothed to another wealthy family who knew nothing of Toushirou’s background other than he was of the Hijikata clan lineage. That itself was worth a considerable amount of wealth, apparently. Toushirou never knew what his worth was, all that he ever knew was that it was an arranged marriage, but because he was still a minor, the marriage was postponed. Until he was of age, he was to be trained by the new household as the soon-to-be wife. 

The twelve years old him knew nothing but to follow the orders from the new family. In this foreign environment, the head lady of the household’s words were his absolutes from then on. Other twelve years old were entering the temple school, fooling around with their peers. The backhouse of the family’s compound was his class, the kitchen his playground. There were no other kids, just him and the servants helping or supervising him with his training. 

It wasn’t exhausting. 

It was just dull.

Day by day in the new household, Toushirou ceased to be a person, more of a subject. 

* * *

The wedding ceremony was going to be tonight. They had prepared everything. Toushirou had years in preparation for this very day, when he would completely lose all there was to him as a person. The culmination of his upbringing in this foreign house; never familiar, would never be familiar—but nevertheless, he was to be the subject of this household. 

Toushirou never bore ill will towards others. He was not raised to curse people, he wasn’t yet raised to be like such. He held no grudge towards the estranged father who died before he could learn of his name, let alone a glimpse of his face. He didn’t hate the family who threw him away like trash the moment Tamegorou wasn’t around. He had no bad thoughts about this family who held him by the chain called marriage. 

But he was relieved, extremely so, to the point where he didn’t even know it was relief the moment he experienced it. He saw blood on the tatami and Toushirou felt nothing short of pure bliss. The red stained his white kimono. It matched the other figure standing amongst these corpses on the other end of the room, white hakama that was stained just as much as his. They both looked like an ethereal couple amidst the dark backdrop. A gruesome groom and bride, if you will.

The man with the silver hair sheathed his katana back to its scabbard, the click announcing that he had finished vanquishing the enemy who crashed on his wedding night. Everyone died except for the bride. The family, the robbers, the groom—only Toushirou survived with the devil’s luck by his side. Perhaps  _ because _ he had the devil’s luck with him. More so than ever now.

The samurai looked over the groom lying in his own pool of blood. 

“Sorry I couldn’t save him.”

Toushirou bowed. “No, you have my utmost gratitude. Thank you.” 

The samurai gave him a look over before walking away from the grotesque yet ethereal scene. 

Toushirou who had never decided anything in his entire life, whose decisions in life had always been made by others, who felt like he had no control over his own fate; for the first time ever, he decided to follow that silver light. 

* * *

“Gintoki, someone’s looking for you.”

“Hah? Who’ssit?” 

“Go look for yourself, stupid.”

Takasugi exited the tent with Gintoki following not long after that, much to the latter’s annoyance. There had been rumors going around for the past couple days of someone looking for him. Like any rumors that the fabled Shiroyasha had dealt with, Gintoki paid absolutely no attention to it. 

Because he paid no attention to things that didn’t concern the battlefield, Gintoki had no clue over who this person looking for him was. He finally got the answer to the question he didn’t even ask when he walked towards the small gathering of men at the entrance of their base. 

Gintoki barely recognized him. 

“Shiroyasha-dono.” 

The only thing he recognized was that blue orbs he couldn’t keep his eyes off. 

“Do I know you?” 

The boy—judging from his appearance, probably just passed the coming of age, still looked very young. The rugged samurai surrounding him looked completely filthy in the scenery together with the boy. Fair skin and complexion, thin figure that made you wonder if the other was eating enough.

“I’m—” The boy with the high ponytail crossed the gap between them with no hesitation. His blue eyes were intense with determination. 

“—the bride you saved from before. I’m Hijikata Toushirou, I offer Shiroyasha-dono myself as a bride. Please accept this as gratitude for saving my life.” 

Everyone gaped when the boy—Hijikata, went down to his knees and prostrated in front of Gintoki. They were all rendered speechless, Gintoki himself could hear Takasugi choking in the background. 

* * *

“Gi—”

“No. Don’t even start. I don’t want to hear it, especially not from you.”

Takasugi raised both his hands in neutral. He didn’t need to point out the obvious, the other generals would help annoy the living hell out of the silver haired general one way or another, so he didn’t need to press further. Takasugi would enjoy the chaos regardless. 

The Shiroyasha was nursing a major headache inside his tent. The samurai had practically escaped from the scene screaming  _ NO _ childishly, leaving his supposedly ‘bride’ amongst what could be said as shark-infested water. Gintoki knew not of his ‘bride’s fate afterwards, he didn’t want to know. 

“But isn’t that just too cruel to—”

“ _ I said stop _ .”

“Whatever, what’s the story here exactly?” Takasugi leaned on one of the posts supporting the tent, arms crossed over his chest. 

Gintoki ran a hand over his face, trying to recall anything regarding of that Hijikata Toushirou person, but nothing came to his mind. He tried using the story the boy had said as a way to jostle his memory, and it produced an image of a bride clad in white standing on a pile of corpses. 

“Was it from when you had that solo mission last month?” 

Gintoki frowned to himself. “I think so, I saved a wedding from being slaughtered by bandits. Well, I say saved, but everyone died except for the bride.”

“So, you saved him?” 

For whatever reason, Gintoki couldn’t shake away the image from that fateful night, nor could he shake off the boy’s intense blue eyes. 

“I think so.”

* * *

Hijikata was running on high determination ever since that night. He scourged the entire area for any information regarding the silver haired samurai, with only the white haori and hakama as description to back him up. Apparently, the man was infamous across the region, he was famous enough that a few days of searching brought a crucial piece of information to Hijikata, the name Shiroyasha. He had not heard of the war against Amanto, he was sheltered inside that household after all. But diligence was one of the praised aspects about him, so Hijikata looked for the Shiroyasha who freed him of his shackles. 

Finding the whereabouts of the Shiroyasha wasn’t incredibly hard, what hard was getting to the samurai’s place as it was in the heart of the war. It took him weeks to get to the closest campground, and Hijikata finally made it to the base. 

Only to be rejected right away. 

He was confused at first. As he stood up from the ground, with dozens of curious eyes around him, Hijikata couldn’t understand why he was rejected. 

Then realization slowly seeped in, he felt ridiculous for not considering the samurai’s rejection. It was a plausible reaction, after all. Hijikata was too caught up with him being accepted that he forgot of the other side of a choice. 

The samurais surrounding him were too hesitant to strike a word at the boy. Hijikata himself too, was more absorbed with his thoughts to acknowledge the crowd forming around him. 

What snapped him back to reality was, again, this insane level of determination. Of experiencing choices firsthand for the first time in his entire life, the thrill of taking decisions without caring of risks, the freedom of choices. 

“Is there a way that I can work here? Is there someone I can talk to?” 

The men were startled at first, but they gave him a name, Katsura Kotarou. 

* * *

Gintoki didn’t linger much on that bride fiasco as he immediately jumped into another solo mission, he kept himself preoccupied with these types of reconnaissance missions. It kept him focused on their current situation, kept him ahead of everyone. It was his obligation as one of the generals after all, despite never volunteering himself as one. 

Coming into contact with the enemy was mostly avoided during this type of recon, but every now and then, he had to slay one or a dozen of Amanto just to get back to camp from his mission. Sometimes it was due to unpredictable circumstances where the Amanto received a change of direction, most of the times it was because he was a sore thumb in the charred battlefield with his silver hair and white outfits. 

Gintoki came back to the camp after a week of doing solo with a completely dirty outfit and several cuts that had already dried-up days ago. The samurai who recognized him at the entrance immediately helped him with his belongings. He went and headed to the main tent afterwards. 

“Oh, you’re back. How’s it?”

Gintoki threw a parchment at Takasugi, it detailed the map he had drawn regarding the Amanto shipment drop zone. 

“They’re expecting a new shipment in two weeks. Where’s Zura?” Gintoki took off his blood stained haori and do. 

“With your wife.” Takasugi exclaimed without missing a beat, nor looking up from the map he was reading.

“ _ My what? _ ”

“Oh, wait, sorry, you guys haven’t wedded yet,  _ your bride _ .”

“What do you mean my— _ ZURA!!! _ ”

Takasugi sneered while watching the silver haired samurai barging out from the tent screaming on top of his lungs. 

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura! Gintoki, over here!” 

The Runaway Kotarou was a notorious blockhead who couldn’t read the mood even if his life depended on it, the long haired samurai definitely couldn’t read how demonic Gintoki was when he approached him from across the campground. Katsura remained nonchalant as he waved his hand beckoning the fabled white demon fuming death in broad daylight. His stained clothing only improved the hellish aura. 

“What the hell did Takasugi mean by my bride?!” 

“It’s precisely what he means. Your bride.” 

“Wh—”

“Welcome back, Gintoki. I see you’re in terrible form as usual from your mission. Don’t worry, you now have the perfect servant to take care of you. I have to say, I’m jealous of you, Gintoki. Still so young, but you already found your bride. I wish you two the best of luck.” Katsura teared up while patting Gintoki’s shoulders and the Shiroyasha had not a single clue what the dumbass was on about. 

“What do you me—”

“Now, you must be tired from the mission. Let your wife take good care of you,  _ HIJIKATA-KUN!!! _ ”

Like having his hair being uprooted in one painful yank, the name reminded him of what he had left behind.

“Katsura-dono! Is there some— _ Shiroyasha-dono! _ ”

Gintoki only gaped like a fish out of water. The boy—Hijikata, looked like he just abandoned his previous work, his kimono sleeves tied behind, there were droplets of sweat glistening his face if you look closely—Gintoki mentally shook himself for staring too intently. 

“Hijikata-kun! It’s time for your training to be put into practice!” 

“Leave it to me!”

Gintoki still stared dumbfoundedly at the two exchanging determined nods. Hijikata looked at him and Gintoki felt even dumber afterwards. Hijikata took the haori and do from Gintoki’s hands and dragged the dirty samurai into his own tent. He then ushered Gintoki to sit on the straw-mat-covered floor. 

“Take off your clothes please.” Gintoki didn’t know why he obliged but he could only stare as Hijikata navigated inside his tent for the aid kits. He moved around the tent like he knew exactly where everything was. He came back with the needed supply to tend to Gintoki’s injuries. 

“Did Zura tell you where everything is?” 

“Yes. Katsura-dono showed me how to navigate the camp and more.” Hijikata tended to the cuts on his back. This stranger who he knew nothing of except that he rescued him and now he was telling everybody that he was the Shiroyasha’s bride—Gintoki was at loss for words. So, he let him take care of his injuries. Hijikata finished with wrapping the bandage, Gintoki turned to find a clean set of kimono. He changed his dirt-stained one for the fresh one while the other busied himself with tidying the supplies. 

“I’ll wash the clothes.” 

Gintoki said nothing as he handed the clothes. 

“Thank you for your work, please enjoy your rest, Shiroyasha-dono.” Hijikata bowed and then excused himself out of the tent. 

Not a single hiccup in their interaction despite how much of a stranger they two were. Gintoki decided to stop thinking about it and went to sleep until his stomach said otherwise.

* * *

Gintoki was an exceptional samurai, feared by enemies and his own men as well. But he had terrible dispositions; he was lazy at best, did not care for his peers, a difficult person when he wanted to. And among others was his terrible habit of putting things at the back of his mind and letting it rot forever.

The Shiroyasha stowed the whole ‘bride’ thing at the far end of his mind and then let Hijikata do whatever he needed to do. He didn’t exactly have any complaints with the new change of pace. Troublesome that it was at first because he had never been this close to anyone, but Gintoki adjusted easily to being pampered by another person. It aligned with his lazy attitude. 

Hijikata prepared for his meal, brought it to his quarters instead of having him eat with the others like usual. Hijikata ate with him as well, visibly confused when Gintoki asked why; as if there was no other place he could be eating right now, as if this is the only right thing in his head. And perhaps, it really was, Gintoki didn’t know what exactly on this boy’s mind after all, this insane ‘bride’. 

It was nice, when you argued it with how he had everything taken care off before Gintoki even thought about it. His clothes were much cleaner than before, both in quantity and quality. He had bath water prepared for him before he even thought about taking one. His tent was a complete overhaul from the state of disarray it was before. 

Having a personal assistant was a luxury, an incredibly luxury that no other samurai in this campground could afford and the Shiroyasha happened to be granted the perfect one, it seemed. What a blessing from Kami-sama, indeed.

But came nightfall and the illusion wore off. Gintoki was forced to remember who was taking care of him the entire day. Who woke him up for bath and dinner, who tended to his wounds with feather-like touch yet the precision of a trained medic, who ate silently in front of him—with him. 

The boy laid down his futon next to Gintoki’s and the samurai became all too aware suddenly. 

“Wait, wait—hold on! Why are you sleeping here?!”

Hijikata only gave him a confused look.

“Katsura-dono said this is where I sleep.” He said that as if it was the most obvious thing. Because it was, to this boy, it really was the obvious thing. “I’ve been sleeping here all this time, when Shiroyasha-dono was out.”

Gintoki wanted to strangle the living daylight out of Katsura.

The silver haired samurai could, in more ways, just sleep it off and pretend the body laying on the futon next to his was just a sack of flour or something. He could pretend that this was the infirmary tent where he had to sleep with other injured samurai. He could ignore Hijikata completely, it was not beyond his capability—he had, after all, ignored Hijikata the entire day. 

But instead, he stood up from his futon. 

“Shiroyasha-dono—”

“I forgot I had watchout duty.” 

Gintoki stormed off from his tent. He went to the outskirts of the base and climbed on one of the sturdy trees surrounding the area. He settled himself and decided to doze off on this tree instead of the comfort of his futon. An idiotic choice no matter how you look at it. His back would kill him but so be it.

Morning came with the birds chirping by his side and sunlight peeking through the leaves. Gintoki stretched himself a bit, his back instantly screaming in agony from having slept on such rough place. But this wasn’t new to him, he grew up sleeping on trees to the point of his subconscious knew very well how to balance on such precarious place. 

He jumped down, landing on the soft grass, and was immediately taken by surprise. 

Lying underneath the tree, sleeping against the bark was his so-called ‘bride’. 

The boy had followed him all the way across the campground, sleeping out in the open just because Gintoki himself was sleeping outside. It was one thing to dedicate your entire day servicing another person, it was a completely other thing when you disregard your own self just to be with someone. 

Gintoki couldn’t understand how the inside of this boy’s head work. All that he understood, at that time, was that if he were to jump off a cliff now, Hijikata would probably jump off right behind him.

So, the nights after that, Gintoki didn’t run away like a coward anymore. He slept soundly and pretended the boy wasn’t sleeping comfortably next to him as well. 

* * *

“Ahaha, Kintoki! I heard you got yourself a damsel!”

“ _ Who told you tha— _ nevermind, I’m surprised you’re the last one to know, to be honest. Also, can you properly learn a person’s name for once?!” 

“Ahaha, where is he, by the way? I only hear that he’s a beauty, but I’ve never seen him, you shouldn’t hog it to yourself, Kintoki. Share a little bit around, would you?”

“I’m never rescuing you if you get cornered by Amanto again.” 

Hijikata looked from across the campfire they were gathered at. It was a celebration after raiding the Amanto shipment, the mission had gone successful all thanks to the Kiheitai faction, with the added aid from Shiroyasha’s faction. Sakamoto Tatsuma had just returned from his own trip of delegating more daimyos in sponsoring the patriots’ cause, securing more places where they can fall back. He came back bringing the much-needed food, medical, as well as weapon supplies. Sakamoto-dono truly was a dragon who brought luck and wealth to the land. 

“Hijikata-kun!” A hand patted his shoulder out of nowhere.

“Ah, Katsura-dono.” 

“What are you doing standing here, come join the celebration.” 

“No, it’s fine, I have things to do—”

“Oh, right! You haven’t met Tatsuma, if I’m not wrong. Let me introduce you to him. He’s a loud guy, but worry not, he’s a good man.” 

Before Hijikata could protest, Katsura pushed him towards where Gintoki and the two other generals were sitting. Takasugi noticed them first. 

“There it is.”

“Tatsuma! Let me introduce you to Gintoki’s wife, Hijikata-kun!”

“Wife? What, I thought he was just your bride, Kintoki.”

“Wha—ZURA!”

Takasugi snickered immediately. 

Hijikata bowed and introduced himself. “Hijikata Toushirou, Shiroyasha-dono’s bride and soon-to-be wife. Pleased to meet you.” 

Gintoki spluttered on his drink while Takasugi’s laughter got louder.

“He’s not!” 

“He definitely is.” Katsura patted Hijikata’s back as affirmation.

“Oh, definitely.” Takasugi still grinning wide behind his own drink. 

“I see, I see.” Sakamoto nodded understandingly. 

Hijikata stood there slightly mesmerized by the four generals. He had never seen anything like the way these close group of friends interacted, never experienced anything like it. The laughter, the jokes, the excitement that they shared despite their circumstances—everything about it was foreign to Hijikata. 

A desire bloomed within him, he wanted to be a part of it.

“Stop with the bride thing! He’s not my bride! Or wife, or whatever!”

What the Shiroyasha had said wasn’t something new to Hijikata. He had heard it countless times, whenever he went around introducing himself, or when he was recognized by the other samurai as such—the silver haired samurai was quick to deflect it. Not once, not twice, constantly, never broke the streak. 

Nobody listened to what the silver haired samurai said. Everybody accepted Hijikata right away as the Shiroyasha’s bride, either from the fun of it or genuinely believing so. Katsura seemed to be of the latter, he was the one who sincerely helped Hijikata around the camp. He was also the only one whom he had told of his full story. 

Hijikata didn’t view his life as a sob story, it was just his life. He told Katsura as such to gain the man’s trust, so that he was allowed to work at the base. Even if it wasn’t for the Shiroyasha’s sake, Hijikata would still like to work amongst these men who fought for their country. He wanted to learn the samurai’s bushido. 

Katsura was moved by his tale, to say the least. Hijikata was glad that the long haired samurai accepted him, but he didn’t think the guy would latch on the bride part so much. True that he came all the way here with the sole intention of offering himself to the Shiroyasha for having saved his life. Hijikata who knew nothing of owning his own self, decided to hand his life yet again to another person—this time on his own volition. 

He was not unfamiliar with rejection; he grew up being dismissed all the time. Hijikata remained unfazed with each of the Shiroyasha’s deflection, he remained by the samurai’s side and provided all that he was taught regardless. The guy didn’t completely dismiss him after all, he said all those things but he still accepted Hijikata’s help with washing his clothes, cleaning his tent, preparing his dinner and bath. He never complained, nor made a fuss of it. Didn’t get angry when people see them together, except for the glare he directed at said people. So, there was no reason for Hijikata to mull about Shiroyasha-dono’s constant deflection.

And yet, Hijikata couldn’t understand why there’s a twinge inside his chest whenever the silver haired samurai exclaimed those words out loud. 

* * *

Despite the unmotivated air surrounding the samurai, The Shiroyasha was more often out of the base than the other generals. The second would be Sakamoto Tatsuma with his constant lobbying campaign across the region. Then Takasugi Shinsuke with his faction as the patriot’s main form of attack. Katsura Kotarou usually remained on the backline, strategizing from behind. That was what the samurai told Hijikata himself, what the boy saw through his observation living for almost a month already in this campground, was that Katsura-dono acted as the mother hen to these rugged samurai. Provided that the mother hen was a bit thick headed himself.

Maybe that was why he was delighted for Hijikata to join the ranks, being one of the other people who had a knack in household duties. Although his sworn duty was to the Shiroyasha, Hijikata evidently helped a lot in the camp. Tending injuries, cooking for the samurai—honestly samurai were useless when it came to taking care of themselves. 

But the Shiroyasha was more often out on his own missions, Hijikata didn’t know if it was how the general usually operated or was it from avoiding the boy. All that he knew, as lately he tended to gaze across the boundary of their camp and into the dark forest beyond, was that he would always be there to welcome back the silver haired samurai. He would be the one helping him with his new injuries inside his tent. He would be the one taking care of the Shiroyasha. This was the duty that he had chosen. 

Such odd behavior would of course entice a query. 

“There’s something I want to ask you.” 

Hijikata put away the aid kit at the corner of the tent before sitting politely in front of the silver haired samurai. The guy had a thoughtful expression, somewhere between distressed and calculating. 

“Yes?”

“Why are you here?”

Hijikata blinked.

“I’m here because you saved my life, so I offered my life in return.”

“No, no, I mean— _ You… _ ” The Shiroyasha ruffled his messy hair. “Just because someone saved your life, doesn’t mean you have to become their bride or servant or whatever—Don’t you have somewhere better to go? This isn’t a place for someone like you,” 

Hijikata only recently understood the concept of freedom, but he had yet to comprehend the kind of freedom the Shiroyasha was talking about. More so, he did not understand the ‘someone like you’ part. 

“I have nowhere else to go.” 

The silver haired samurai frowned. “Not even the Hijikata family?”

Hijikata noted, the samurai was perceptive. The raven shook his head. 

“I’m a bastard child from the Hijikata family. I was taken into the main branch family by my half-brother when my mother died. I was then sold to another family when my brother was out of town when I was twelve. I was to be the heir’s new bride; I was trained to be a housewife by the family.” 

Hijikata kept his gaze on the ground, at the gap between him and the Shiroyasha. 

“That night when you saved me, you also freed me from the family I didn’t want to be part of. You saved more than just my life; you saved my future.” 

Hijikata bowed in gratitude. 

“… Aren’t you just chaining yourself to another one by staying here?” 

The boy looked up, not understanding the expression in Shiroyasha’s face.

“I.. “ Hijikata looked straight at the samurai. “Throughout my life, people made decisions for me. Everything was already set, and I didn’t have any say to it. But that night—for the first time in my life, I made my first decision.” 

Hijikata inched towards the samurai. “I decided to follow you all the way here to give you the life that you saved.” 

He was inexperienced when it came to this. He was taught all there was to be taught in pleasing your spouse, but it was all textbook in the end, the family wouldn’t subject him to the actual act to save his virginity for the first night when the newly wed would consummate their bond.

Clumsily, despite his inner hesitation, Hijikata leaned close to the silver haired samurai. He started with holding the other’s face in his hands, breath ghosting against his skin. The other was motionless, perhaps stunned; Hijikata used this as an opportunity to position himself on the samurai’s lap. 

He kissed the other’s closed lips. Not permitted entry, Hijikata trailed to kiss his jaw instead, his hands roaming down the samurai’s broad chest, traveling to the lower abdomen. 

And then his hands were yanked above his head. Hijikata toppled on his back when the Shiroyasha shifted and pinned him down. Looming above him like this, the boy was reminded of the samurai’s true moniker. He was told that the Shiroyasha was around the same age as him, but gazing at that deep in thought expression, the Shiroyasha seemed too old already. What sort of demon does a demon would have—Hijikata wondered.

“Aren’t you just afraid to decide for your own? You threw your life at the first person you saw; you just didn’t want to be by yourself, did you?”

Hijikata’s breath hitched. 

The other was just a hair away from his face, and yet those red eyes seemed to be miles away.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you just didn’t know how to live on your own, so you let someone else dictate it. That’s why you came here, isn’t it? You’re a rather shrewd one,  _ oyome-san _ .” 

Before Hijikata could say anything, his hands were freed, and the figure on top of him was gone in a breeze. The samurai left the tent, he didn’t return for the night, and Hijikata didn’t chase him for it.

* * *

They didn’t get closer, nor did they get further apart. It was as if that night never happened, something buried between the both of them. Gintoki with his terrible habits, Hijikata who couldn’t exactly express anything about it. But it became a strain in their already estranged acquaintanceship. 

The boy spent more time tending the rest of the base than dedicating his day towards Gintoki. He mostly helped Katsura around, slowly turning into an errand boy or some sort. He still took care of Gintoki’s chores, but other than that, that ponytail was more often seen somewhere else than by the silver haired’s side. Though Hijikata still slept in his quarter.

Gintoki believed that they both had forgotten about it entirely. Originally, the samurai was going to apologize for that uncalled hostility. The boy had laid bare his life in front of Gintoki and he practically trampled over it. He was never exactly a polite person, but even he knew that it was uncalled for. But his bad habit made him keep procrastinating over that simple apology that over a month had passed, he had lost his timing altogether. So, Gintoki figured that Hijikata already forgot about it.

This he concluded after seeing the raven mingled around the samurai, he noticed how the boy was blending in better with the men. He looked more relaxed now chatting with the samurai, the men in return were getting chummier with Hijikata. They even offered some lessons in sword fighting, as Gintoki watched from afar. 

He paid not much attention at first, the boy could do whatever he pleased. But then he saw Katsura teaching him how to swordfight as well and something began creeping inside Gintoki. He noticed it was irk; he didn’t know for what reason exactly—only that he was irked by the sight of Katsura helping Hijikata swung the sword. That bothered feeling also crept up when he saw Tatsuma explaining a bunch of parchments to Hijikata. 

It turned into full-blown uncalled annoyance when he saw Takasugi standing with Hijikata in an open field, the latter swinging a sword that Gintoki recognized from the distance as Takasugi’s own katana. The shortstack himself stood by Hijikata’s side, seemed to be supervising and quipping every now and then. He realized it was all intentional when his eyes met with Takasugi’s and the bastard decided to grin, before leaning closer in teaching Hijikata the proper grip for the sword.

Gintoki spent the entire day being unreasonably bothered with what he saw in the morning. His irritation oozed right out of his pores to the point that everyone around him avoided the seemingly seething Shiroyasha from miles ahead, he was turning into a walking demon even for his own men. 

“You’re learning how to fight.” It came out harsher than Gintoki had originally planned. They were in Gintoki’s tent and were preparing themselves for bed. It still baffled the samurai why this boy would still want to rest anywhere near him, despite what he said before. 

Hijikata only blinked neutrally. “I’m learning how to live.” 

It was Gintoki’s turn to blink like an idiot. 

“You told me to.”

He knitted his brows;  _ did he? _

Maybe he did, maybe that was what the boy interpreted it as when Gintoki pointed it out a month ago. If that was what he understood it as, then it was better than what Gintoki originally meant. He’d rather Hijikata interpreted it like that. 

He folded his arms behind his head and crossed his legs as he laid on his own futon. “So, how was it? The lessons.”

Hijikata patted down his futon before facing Gintoki. “I think I’m getting a hang of it. Swordfighting, that is.” 

The samurai hummed noncommittally, chewing on the inside of his mouth and also his own brain. He decided to bite.

“I can teach you a better one.”

He didn’t need to glance to know how confused Hijikata must have looked right now, he himself also couldn’t believe the words that came out from his mouth. But there it was, he said it out loud like the fool that he was, and Gintoki realized what was festering inside him all day before. 

He wanted to be the one teaching Hijikata.

* * *

When the silver haired samurai pinned him down and brought him to realize his own flaws, Hijikata felt like he couldn’t breathe. Not just from the intimidating aura of the Shiroyasha, but also the suffocation that came with realizing his own true color. He never thought of it like that—but he couldn’t deny what the samurai had said.

He was right. Hijikata couldn’t bear living for his own self that he immediately threw it to the person who found him. What would've happened to him had the silver haired samurai wasn’t there—he’d die along with that family. Of course. Or maybe taken by the bandits,  _ who knows _ . If it was someone else who had found him…

Hijikata thought he had grasped what it means to live in freedom, but in reality he was just looking for another reason to chain himself down again. The bird who hatched and grew up inside a cage, that was the limit of his world. You freed them into the vast sky and they’d come back right away. The world, after all, was too scary.

The Shiroyasha was right and Hijikata wanted to live. He decided to live for himself. He kept his words in taking care of the silver haired samurai. No matter what, he did owe the guy his life—his future. 

So, he worked hard. He learned as much as there was to learn, helped as much as he could. Regardless of the Shiroyasha’s approval, Hijikata would continue to be in the heart of the battle, fighting alongside these noble samurais. It was a start in his determination to live.

He confided with Katsura because he already told him so much, and that he trusted the thick headed samurai. He might be dumb, but he was always sincere with his words and actions. Hijikata admired him for it. He became a frequent helper for the general who was more in charge of micro-managing the campground than strategizing attacks. Hijikata’s own household knowledge proved to be incredibly useful in the base, Katsura praised him for it when he shared some herbs and spices knowledge. 

Sakamoto Tatsuma roped him into the general tent one afternoon, bombarding him with questions and remarks that Hijikata couldn’t exactly understand; but every one of his hesitant answers were met with a big smile from the Tosa merchant, as if taking Hijikata’s input. 

Takasugi Shinsuke was the strangest of them all. It was by pure ‘to-hell-with-it’ determination that Hijikata braved himself in asking the Kiheitai general to teach him how to use a sword. Hijikata had asked around who was the strongest samurai amongst the generals, they all gave varying answers with Takasugi’s and Gintoki’s names being pitted as the strongest, but they couldn’t decide who was stronger. They said the Shiroyasha, but then the other pointed out how Takasugi was also strong. Hijikata himself believed the Shiroyasha was stronger. In the end he asked for Takasugi because asking the other samurai would be like rubbing salt to his own wounds. He didn’t expect the Kiheitai leader to agree with an amused look, nor did he expect himself to be taught one-on-one with the samurai himself. 

Looking back—as he now stood in front of the one he believed to be the strongest of them all, Hijikata had a feeling that the Shiroyasha had watched his interactions with the other generals. It sparked the thoughts like ‘Why would he be interested?’, ‘Why did he offer to teach me himself?’, and of course the above the cloud ‘Is he perhaps jealous of me talking with the others?’. 

The last one sounded ridiculous, even to his own standard. However, Hijikata felt slightly giddy if he were to think of it as jealousy. Even though he knew it couldn’t be; what’s the harm in playing make-believe?

“In a real sword fight, you’ll be out with just one strike. Keep your eyes on your opponent. The sword is the extension of yourself and your soul.” 

The open field their audience, the sky above their judge. Today’s weather was a calm breeze.

“Now, show me what you’ve learned.” 

Hijikata charged for the silver haired samurai. 

* * *

“Not bad.” The guy had the audacity to chuckle.

“Like hell ‘not bad’…” Hijikata wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his soiled kimono. He was full of dirt and scuff marks. “I couldn’t even get a single hit. In what world is it ‘not bad’?” 

He knew he’d lose, but he hadn’t expected it to be this humiliating. He also lost to Katsura and Takasugi, but with those two, they were more focused on teaching him the basics rather than jumping right to sparring. Katsura’s lessons weren’t that special, but he provided Hijikata who had zero background in swordfighting a place to start. Whereas Takasugi’s lessons were more of stances and tactics. The latter not so much of a good teacher, he was too terse in his directions. 

Shiroyasha—Gintoki, as the guy wanted to be called by Hijikata from now on (“Gintoki is fine, no need to use that dumb nickname.” “But you’re the feared Shiroyasha-dono.” “What, you scared of me?”), Hijikata was right in thinking the guy was strong. But he underestimated how much Gintoki would toy with him. The jerk said it was to test his skill, measure your opponent by observation (“What observation?! You told me to attack you with all I’ve got when I’ve never even seen you fight—“), Hijikata firmly believed the asshole was just messing with him. 

And yet he couldn’t say that one single spar was for nothing. He learned more in that short fight than he had with the other two skillful samurai. Gintoki was unpredictable, but Hijikata was able to see his unpredictability when the guy said it during the fight, explaining his moves. Hijikata began to see through the gaps of sword fighting, he began to understand. 

Hijikata untied his hair band to fix his hair, letting them fall effortlessly to his shoulder. “That’s incredibly unfair, you had the upper hand and all.” 

Gintoki didn’t reply right away, so the raven decided to check as he tied his hair into a ponytail back. He caught the silver haired samurai staring blankly at him, of which Hijikata quirked an eyebrow at. 

The other blinked, and Hijikata blinked in return. 

“Let’s have dinner at the tent again.”

“Huh?”

“Like before. Let’s have dinner in my tent again.” 

Hijikata didn’t know what the samurai meant with that—he understood the literal meaning. They had dinner together again like the first time he was here at the camp, just the two of them sitting facing each other and silently eating their food; but he felt like there was another thing behind Gintoki’s words that time. Hijikata wanted to know what it was, because it made his heart skip a beat.

* * *

The boy was growing right before his very eyes. His complexion looked better, he was building muscle as well. Nothing like Gintoki’s owned, they were from years of training and strain. But Hijikata was losing his too-thin-for-his-own-goodness figure and gaining a firmness under those pale white skin at a steady rate. 

He knew he was firm because Gintoki had felt that very firmness under his very own hands. Of which they felt like burning hours after he released that hold. It wasn’t once, nor twice—it was more than enough times that Gintoki was able to detect the subtle change. 

From accidental touches that weren’t accidental at all when Gintoki willing to admit during the sword training, holds that were under the guise of teaching Hijikata the proper techniques. Never too long to mean anything, but too often to not mean something. Gintoki hoped the raven didn’t notice them.

Hijikata worked hard, no wonder he grew in such a short amount of time. The once indifferent sentiment he had regarding the stubborn stranger was turning into something closer to swelling pride, of seeing the fire burning inside those intense blue orbs. And Gintoki realized, that look never left the boy. He had always had that determined gaze, from the very beginning that he announced the whole ‘bride’ thing, Hijikata always had that captivating thing about him. It was for that exact reason that Gintoki couldn’t keep his eyes off the boy, even if he wanted to.

And now without his own stubbornness in avoiding Hijikata, the silver haired samurai began to notice things that he never looked at before. Perhaps he did look, his subconscious that was. Tatsuma did call him out once about looking too long at Hijikata across the camp. The annoying samurai laughed too loud about it, but seemingly in an understanding tone and supportive gesture (something that Gintoki didn’t want to admit being thankful for). If it were Takasugi, Gintoki would just kill the shortstack right then and there for even breathing a word.

If it were just distanced gazes, Gintoki could easily deflect it by keeping an eye on his men. But then it turned into his own body moving on its own one evening when they were having dinner, and it was Hijikata’s own wide, confused eyes that brought realization back to the silver haired samurai of what he just did by tucking the loose strand falling over Hijikata’s face behind his ears. 

“Your hair.”

“What about my hair?”

_ It’s silky smooth. It’s like a feather on my skin. It’s jet-black and shines under the sunlight. It’s pretty. _

“It’s over your face.”

“Ah, thank you… ?” 

“… You’re… welcome… ?” 

Gintoki would rather be ambushed by Amanto right now than to deal with this awkwardness in the air all of the sudden. He wanted to scratch his head for doing something very unlike him—and for saying such stupid statement. Of course Hijikata would be confused; and why was he even unsure at his own words? 

He spared one last glance at the other before deciding to eat his food in haste. He saw the slight hue adorning Hijikata’s face and Gintoki found himself shoving food faster into his face. He wouldn’t mind if he died right now from choking on rice. 

From then on, Gintoki made it his resolve to be more aware of what he was doing, particularly in regard to the ‘supposedly bride of his’. Lately he couldn’t stop thinking of that declaration, and the fact that despite his constant denial, neither the boy nor the entire Jouishishi treated him otherwise. Perhaps because he was slowly losing that denial state of mind, that the silver haired samurai began to accept the alternative, or truth, if he were to really take Hijikata’s declaration. His mind began to entertain the idea more and it was bad for his entire mental state, really. 

And yet, because he was more aware of it; his body decided to work by instinct more than his rational thoughts. His eyes would search for that one particular figure amidst the crowd long before he thought of looking for Hijikata. His hands would grab for the crates before he even offered help to the other. He was already by the raven’s side before Hijikata even called him for dinner. 

“You’re like a dog, Gintoki.”

“Normally I would never agree with you but  _ goddammit _ , you’re right.” Takasugi huffed in amusement at the sight of his despairing friend. 

“You’re definitely not husband material, but I think if you continue doing this, you’d be passable.” 

“Nonsense, Takasugi. Gintoki here is an exceptional husband material. I’m sure he’d be an amazing partner for Hijikata-kun.”

“…”

“...Oi, Zura. Did you hit your head?”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura! No, I only ate a weird mushroom I found in the forest today.”

His friends were hopeless, but he was more hopeless than those two right now. Clearly a lost cause as he told Hijikata that today they were going to fish in the river. Being able to gather food is an essential knowledge in surviving, if Hijikata wanted to live, then he should learn how to fish in the wilderness. A sound advice, the boy agreed right away. Of course he would agree, because Gintoki didn’t reveal that he sucked at fishing. 

“First thing, you have to know of the river. Know the currents and where fish tends to gather. You can’t just cast your line randomly.” Gintoki recited what he learned from a fisherman once, back when he and Shouyou traveled together. They met a fisherman at a riverbank, both got a lesson in the tips and tricks of fishing. 

They went to a rockier area, where fish tend to rest behind rocks against the stream. They stood on different rocks and casted their lines. Then it became the waiting game for the fish to bite their hooks. 

Gintoki wasn’t really that terrible to be honest, he understood and could perform the basics. What he sucked at, was the waiting game. As well as how, for some unknown reason, fish don’t tend to bite his line. He often wondered if it was because his hair reflecting the sunlight into the water or something, but nothing complicated like that could ever be possible, right?

“Ah, I got a bite!” Hijikata shouted from his side and Gintoki almost threw away his pole from the surprise. 

“For real?!”

Hijikata reeled the pole and the fish flew from the water. With a big grin, the boy held the still flapping fish in his arms. Gintoki couldn’t help but mimic the grin. 

Then he saw Hijikata struggling with the slippery fish. “It’s—kind of— _ ah! _ ”

Gintoki saw the boy’s wrong footings before he slipped from the rock. The silver haired samurai leaped over Hijikata, trying to catch him before he fell and hit the rock. 

He caught the raven, but he caught him in the water as they both fell into the river in a huge splash. For A moment they stared stupidly at each other’s drenched state, they were forced to break it because the fish in Hijikata’s hold slipped away. It flew back into the water, not without giving a slap on the boy’s cheek with its tail. 

“There goes our lunch.” Gintoki snorted, accepting his fate being half submerged in the river. 

Hijikata got up and extended his hand for the samurai. “Let’s catch a new one.”

He took the offered hand; this time, however, it was Gintoki’s turn to slip on the mossy rock under the water, pulling Hijikata down with him. This went on for a bit as they both kept slipping on the rock and kept dragging the other person down each time. They eventually gave up standing altogether when they’d fallen for roughly five times already, exchanging pathetic looks as they sat on the water, they were completely drenched from head to toe.

“Why did I even suggest fishing.” Gintoki shook his head, trying to get rid of the water. Droplets splattering everywhere and his perm hair puffed like a cloud after that. 

Hijikata suddenly broke into laughter, the sound and his gleeful expression caught Gintoki in a daze. Any other times with any other person, Gintoki would've been annoyed if someone laughed at him like that. But right now, his tongue got tied all of the sudden and could only stare at Hijikata clutching his stomach from laughter. 

“Who knows the Shiroyasha could be this lame, pfft,” The corners of those blue eyes crinkled, and those orbs seemed to be reflecting the sunlight more than usual. 

What he wanted to say was ‘Who the hell are you calling lame?!’, but what came out was “I’m not that lame.”

Hijikata’s laughter subsided and he wiped his eyes that got teared up from laughing too much. “No, no, definitely the lamest.”

And then Gintoki realized what he had when he couldn’t find it within him to be any bit annoyed by Hijikata’s words. He understood what he had when his own face softened at the sight of Hijikata grinning widely at him. 

His bride was beautiful.

* * *

Gintoki would warm up to him, he knew the samurai would. Katsura was the one who reassured him when Hijikata told him of his simmering uneasiness over the silver haired samurai. He said that he would stay here regardless of whether Gintoki wanted him or not. But that was before he even began calling him as Gintoki, it was before how much he noticed the other’s lingering stares. Gazes that never broke, even when Hijikata gazed back, whether in question or in challenge. He was confused by them at first, but slowly, surely, Hijikata felt that recently, it felt too flattering to be under those eyes. 

The other thing he noticed was the lack of refutes coming from the silver haired samurai whenever his fellow generals or patriots teased him nowadays. That was the one that he noticed the most, because Gintoki would always deny it before. So, when he stopped saying “He’s not my bride!”, of course Hijikata would notice.

Hijikata wondered if it worked the other way around as well.

When the samurai came back from the front line and he was the only one who returned, sometimes he’d be carrying a fellow samurai who was gravely injured, but the rarest was when he returned with more than five other people. Hijikata always greeted him back by just standing at the entrance of the base. Gintoki didn’t have to tell him that he was not allowed to go into the front line to protect him; even without a loud quarrel, Hijikata knew that he’d die like the men the Shiroyasha couldn’t bring back. 

Because of that, he decided to be the one who’d always greet Gintoki when he returned. He’d be the one who cared for his remaining injuries. The one who would welcome him as home, however naïve his intention might be. Because he knew Gintoki would return from those battles enough already, and Hijikata already heard enough of the words being said behind the silver samurai’s back. He didn’t need to be another guilt in the samurai’s conscience. 

Gintoki did all those solo missions by choice, after all.

“You told me to live.” 

Hijikata applied the healing salve on the gash over the samurai’s back. The one that he nursed last week was already healing into a nasty scar. His back was littered with them, Hijikata noticed.

“Did I?” Gintoki tilted his head slightly.

“… Sort of.” Hijikata wrapped his shoulder with the bandages. The silver haired samurai didn’t exactly tell him to live like the way Hijikata worded it. The sentiment was implied, from his words many moons ago and his actions following it. And even now, when the Shiroyasha came back without anyone else, it seemed to deliver the same message.

_ Live. Don’t be like them.  _

It was only natural to demand the same thing, wasn’t it?

“I know nobody can tell you to do anything. You do things on your own. For yourself.” Hijikata lingered a bit after applying the last bandage. “But if you’re willing to listen to other’s wishes once in a while, then please live a long life.”

_ Come back, and I will greet you like always. _

* * *

They had made the plan to strike during the next new moon. They were close to capturing a major Amanto territory, if they secured the next base, then they could push the Amanto into a corner successfully. The plan was to attack in different directions by each faction. 

But luck wasn’t on their side. 

The Amanto received a change of plan, they were to be on stand-by for another command. The Amanto had the advantage of being able to change tactics right away with the help of communication devices, the samurai didn’t have that sort of technology. Mobilizing an attack was hard enough with just one faction, a joined one like this had taken them months in preparation. 

The Jouishishi was forced to retreat when the Amanto did a sudden night raid. The samurai were able to escape only by sheer luck when the night patrolling samurai spotted one of the Amanto coming from the west. 

“Only take what’s necessary, abandon the rest, go!” The generals shouted in different directions, each one ordering their factions to escape immediately. 

“Follow Sakamoto up front!” The Tosa-born merchant led the Jouishishi to the south, Katsura helped while everyone packed up to move, Takasugi and Gintoki were to be the last defense at the rear. 

“Gintoki!”

“I got it!” 

He was a valuable asset that more often being thrown into the cage of hungry tigers rather than saved up the sleeve for later. Katsura called him their ace, their trump card. For as long as the Jouishishi had Gintoki, they had their invisibility.

Slaying one Amanto after another, the Shiroyasha’s mind was not entirely focused on the task at hand. “Where’s Hijikata?!” 

He had not seen that boy amongst the escaping samurai. 

“Is he not with Tatsuma up front?”

“ZURA!”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura! I did not see Hijikata-kun in the crowd!” 

Gintoki scanned frantically at the ambushed base, majority of the tents were already destroyed and burning from the fire being thrown by the Amanto. He could not find Hijikata anywhere as far as he looked. Panic rose in his chest. 

“Gintoki! That’s our last, we have to go!” 

He looked at Takasugi, then at their last men running in the horizon with Katsura. Everyone had escaped, he should escape as well.

But something didn’t sit right within him. Hijikata might be amongst the men that had already escaped, but he might also still be somewhere in the base. 

“I’ll catch up with you guys!” 

“Are you insane—Gintoki!” 

He dodged the Amanto attack and the fallen log separated him from Takasugi. Gintoki slashed his sword at the Amanto’s chest. “I’ll meet you guys later!” 

“ _ Gintoki!! _ ” 

Takasugi’s screamed was drowned by the sound of cackling fire eating the tents. Gintoki ran for his own tent, gambling on Hijikata being there. He came to his quarter and it was already engulfed in huge flame. For a second dread washed over the silver haired samurai, then he shook that thoughts off, Hijikata wasn’t stupid enough to be burned alive, he must be somewhere else. 

“Hijikata!” 

The Amanto had fallen back, thinking that the base had been completely burnt down so they retreated. Some were still lingering around and Gintoki’s shoutings alerted them. He killed them without any thoughts, eyes frantically looking for Hijikata.

“Toushirou!”

His only reply was the sound of burnt woods, crackling fire that had eaten their base. 

Gintoki kept searching, kept calling for the boy’s name, kept finding and slaying Amanto instead. But everything around him was blazing hot fire. The smoke was getting too much, even if Hijikata weren’t burnt inside one of these tents, he might have passed out from the smoke. 

He would not return without Hijikata, corpse or not, Gintoki would keep on searching.

“Toushirou!” 

Suddenly there was a sound of collapsing wood from the east side and Gintoki immediately headed to the direction. He found one of the still standing tents but already in a destroyed state. 

“ _ Toushirou! _ ”

He heard a reply and he immediately grabbed for the woods, lifting post after post. He found Hijikata under the rubble, delirious and on the brink of passing out. His last words before going limp in his arms was the samurai’s name. 

* * *

He woke up in the room with other injured samurais. Their backup base was this abandoned village in the south, it was their safety plan in case they had to retreat. The village was hidden inside a luscious forest that was hard to navigate if you weren’t familiar with the area. A perfect hiding place, but it was also far away from nearby towns. As such, it was difficult to get supplies or help in here.

Hijikata inspected his body covered in bandages. He was buried under the collapsed tent when he retreated from one of the attacking Amanto. A wooden post had hit his head and Hijikata passed out under the tent. 

He heard his name being called and that brought him back to consciousness. He passed out again not long after, the last thing he remembered was the silver haired samurai. 

He abruptly stood up, wobbling towards the shack’s door to look for that very person who rescued him. 

Hijikata found Takasugi instead. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” 

“Where—”

“Oi, Gintoki!” 

Hijikata looked at his back, towards the direction Takasugi was calling, and he saw the person he was looking for in quite a similar state as him. Gintoki met his eyes and immediately cut his conversation with Katsura to run for Hijikata. The raven almost crashed to the ground from the sudden weight when the other grabbed him by the shoulders. 

“Are you alright?!”

“My shoulders—”

“Ah—sorry,” 

Gintoki’s eyes drooped low and his gaze felt much closer to Hijikata than it actually looked. It captivated the raven so much that he raised a hand to touch Gintoki’s cheek, fingers lightly resting on the plaster covering the samurai’s injury. Gintoki raised his own hand, catching Hijikata’s hand by the wrist and holding it there. 

Hijikata felt like forgetting how to breathe entirely, but at the same time he felt like his breath was in tandem with the person in front of him, as if this connection wasn’t just by their hands. 

The spell was short-lived. Gintoki looked over Hijikata’s back and his expression turned sour. Before the raven could ask anything about it, the silver haired samurai pulled Hijikata away by the same hand he was holding previously. He guided them to a secluded area, one of the unoccupied rooms in this abandoned compound. It seemed to be occupied now, as Hijikata noticed what looked to be Gintoki’s belongings piled at the corner of the room. Perks of being a higher rank, you get to choose your own room. 

Gintoki motioned them to sit on the floor and Hijikata obliged. There was a short pause before Gintoki pulled him close and embraced him tightly. The silver haired samurai buried his face against Hijikata’s neck, and the raven was too shocked to reciprocate the hug. 

“Gin—!”

“I thought I lost you.” 

There was something painful in the way Gintoki uttered it that made Hijikata shifted to envelope his hands over the other. In that short sentence that didn’t explain much, it revealed more of Gintoki than Hijikata had ever seen. He didn’t need to know the true intention to know the meaning of his words, because he felt the same way. 

Buried under those rubbles, Hijikata was sure he’d die for real that time. 

“Gintoki..”

His face was cupped by rough hands and distressed eyes looked straight against his. 

“What were you even doing there—why didn’t you leave?! Why didn’t you escape with the others—” 

“I was looki— _ salvaging _ the important belongings; the maps, the letters—"

“ _ Are you a moron?! _ ” 

Hijikata jerked a bit from the sudden outburst. He had expected Gintoki to be angry a bit, he also expected the other would be angrier if he said his true reasoning. 

“Let them burn! Those things aren’t important!” Gintoki looked at him painfully. “Treasure yourself more, dammit— _ I told you to live _ , didn’t I?” 

The apology was stuck in his throat, something else came out instead. 

“—nd what about you..” Hijikata took a sharp breath, he couldn’t stop his own dam from bursting. 

“What about you?! Always risking your life. You tell others to live but what about yourself?!  _ Do you treasure yourself then?! _ ”

Hijikata shared the painful look with Gintoki. This was their curse, the never-ending state of worrying for each other’s wellbeing. Something that developed on its own, inevitably so. The uncertainty of both their lives in the eyes of each other. There was nothing that both could do. 

“I was looking for you…” It was his turn to cup Gintoki’s face, Hijikata leaned his head close towards the other, a slight hesitation in pressing his forehead against the samurai. “I know you’d be the last to escape, so I was looking for you.” 

“Toushirou—”

“I treasure myself because of you, for you; so  _ please _ , treasure yourself, then.” 

Gintoki was the one who connected their forehead, meeting Hijikata’s uncertainty with a firm answer. They held each other like that for a moment, experiencing their heartbeats falling into one continuation. Hands that were clutching desperately over each other. Lips that were a mere breath away. 

Gintoki pulled back, holding both of Hijikata’s hands. 

“Toushirou, will you marry me?”

“Wh—”

“I know I keep rejecting and you were the one who offered yourself to me, but I’m returning that—you belong to yourself, that’s why I didn’t…” Gintoki looked down at their hands. “—I mean it’s not like I didn’t want you to be my bride, or something. I couldn’t just say that out loud, could I? Well—I said all that bad stuff after you opened up to me, I’m surprised you still want to stay here. When you told me that you want to live— _ honestly _ , I’m so happy. I’m really happy for you.” His grip tightened just the slightest, something about Gintoki’s gaze wrenched Hijikata’s chest. “I felt like I’m always asking from you… but,”

“Yes.”

“Toushirou..”

“The answer has always, will always be yes.” 

Hijikata leaned and gave Gintoki a soft kiss to his lips. He pulled slightly, only to be chased by Gintoki for a deeper one next. 

“Wait here.”

The silver haired samurai stood up, heading outside in haste all of the sudden. Hijikata was left stunned with warmth spreading through his entire body when he remembered what they just did. It wasn’t like it was his first time kissing Gintoki—he did kiss him once before, but this was entirely different. The feeling of being reciprocated was completely different. 

Gintoki came back with labored gasps, he looked like someone who just ran across the entire village because that was exactly what he just did. He came back holding a bottle of sake and some mismatched cups in varying sizes. 

“Gintoki—”

“We’re binding this under Kami-sama.” 

Hijikata wanted to laugh at Gintoki’s declaration, he let out a chuckle instead. He felt the same way.

Gintoki settled down in front of him again, laying down the sake cups and the bottle between them. 

“Right, I asked around if we have the stuff but there’s no way we’ll have the sakazuiki so here’s three different sized cups, should be alright, yeah?”

“Don’t know, Kami-sama might not witness us for this.”

Hijikata helped Gintoki pour the sake into the three cups. Aligning them according to the sizes, from the smallest to the biggest, before putting down the bottle at the end. They fixed their sitting position afterwards, properly facing each other. 

“Fine then, if Kami-sama wouldn’t bind us, then Hell can be our witness.” 

Gintoki gave him a devilish grin and Hijikata mirrored it. How appropriate, nothing would suit better when you’re married to the Shiroyasha. A gruesome groom and bride, indeed.

They each took turns sipping from the three cups. Each cup was sipped three times. The union of two souls, sealed for eternal oath. This was their bind. 

* * *

They kept it between the two of them. People around them already treated them like a married couple, whether they were truly wedded or not wasn’t important to the way they treated those two. They got teased and joked just as usual. Perhaps to keener eyes, something between them had changed. But against the eyes of many, they were just the Shiroyasha and his bride. 

“You said you were thrown by the Hijikata family,”

Hijikata glanced to his side, at Gintoki who sat by the engawa with him, gazing at the same moon like him before. Gintoki’s chosen quarter was at the back end of this abandoned compound. It was very much like him to choose somewhere secluded, away from everybody else. That lonesome habit of his, Hijikata was slowly breaking it apart.

“you’re fine with using that name?”

He returned his gaze at the moon. 

“It’s not that I’m fine with it. I didn’t call myself that again until I introduced myself to you that day.” It was Gintoki’s turn to glance at Hijikata. “I didn’t take it for the family, I took it back for Tame-nii.” 

Gintoki hummed. “I see.”

“What about you? I’ve never heard of your family name.” Everybody only ever called him Shiroyasha or Gintoki. Even amongst the close group of Gintoki’s friends that Hijikata had come to know, there were never any slipped up of the silver haired samurai’s full name. It made him wonder if Gintoki didn’t have a family name to begin with. It wasn’t uncommon, ronin were often without ties, after all. 

“It’s Sakata.” Gintoki scratched his chin. “But it’s just me, there’s no one else. I’m an orphan from the war. That name was given to me when me and my teacher crossed a paddy field on a hill once.”

Hijikata looked and found that same distanced gaze within Gintoki’s eyes that he recalled from before. Something rare that only ever noticeable if you scrutinized hard enough, or if you’ve grown accustomed in picking up all of the silver haired samurai’s cues. Something that if he were to pry more, would be like digging old wounds. So, Hijikata didn’t.

“If I take your family name, then it wouldn’t just be you, right?”

Gintoki looked at him in astonishment, staring at Hijikata like he grew another head just now. The raven stared back at first, but the silver haired samurai remained speechless to the point of it being somewhat unnerving. And then without giving any cue, Gintoki shifted closer to him. 

“Hey, can I hold you?”

It was Hijikata’s turn to look at the other incredulously.

“Wh-what?”

“We’re married, can I hold you? I want to hold you right now. Can I?”

Hijikata felt his face heating up. Gintoki was so close to him now—it wasn’t like it was the first time they were this close, they had kissed already,  _ hell _ , they had done more than just kiss already. Well—not exactly more, but still. Hijikata already did try to do it with him before; he was beyond late if he was only embarrassed now.

“Toushirou,” 

Gintoki whispered his voice so quietly and Hijikata couldn’t stop thinking of how much this was a first time for them, for him. He was reminded of everything all at once. This was supposedly the culmination of his upbringing, this was to be his undoing all those months ago, when he was still the bride of that family.

This was what he was prepared for. 

And yet he felt thoroughly unprepared, he was in uncharted territory despite already having memorized the scrolls and scrolls of ways to pleasure your husband. He remembered all the details of the illustrations, yet they were all gone the moment Gintoki got close to him.

“I—"

He looked closely and the silver haired samurai had an uneasy look on his face complete with a small fluster. Hijikata realized he wasn’t the only one embarrassed about the entire thing. 

He pulled the other by his kimono collar and smashed their lips together. It was awkward and too much of teeth clashing from the suddenness. They pulled back slightly to try again, this time slotting better with Gintoki tilting his head to deepen the kiss. It was as if the samurai took his breath away with each time he delved into Hijikata’s mouth; that was exactly what he was doing, wasn’t it?

Gintoki kissed him desperately. Hijikata was getting dizzier by the second, he didn’t even notice that Gintoki carried him inside the room and laid him down on the futon. There weren’t many that they could salvage, everyone was limited in their accommodations and the Shiroyasha was privileged to have his own bed. The small lantern next to the bedside was the only source of light now that they closed the door screen. Hijikata had slept next to this samurai for the past few months and nothing compared to how much he was aware of the other right at this very moment. 

“Gintoki…” 

* * *

His heart was hammering so much he could hear it loud and clear. Hijikata was right in front of him, underneath him—Gintoki felt like he shouldn’t be so shaken by this, but having Hijikata like this was more than anything he had ever experienced, even in the red light district that him and his fellow samurai used to frequent. 

Hijikata was truly something else. The moment he laid eyes on that bride clad in blood-stained white kimono, Gintoki had thought that it was a deity right before him. It felt otherworldly, the way Hijikata stood amongst the corpse of his wedding crowd. It looked just as much as a sacred ceremony, even more so as he was the only figure standing at the altar. That image was burned inside Gintoki for the longest time. 

Gintoki leaned down to capture his bride’s lips in another kiss; this time he trailed down to his jaw, neck, chest—gingerly shrugging the dark blue robe off to reveal the other’s unblemished skin. He always wondered how it would feel under his calloused fingers. He grabbed for the wrist quite often, but Hijikata’s neck and chest that often showed itself when the raven’s kimono was a bit loose, he always wondered how those would feel under his touch. How it would color if he was to leave marks all over it. Despite the amount of work and change of pace the other was subjected to in this warzone, Hijikata remained an untarnished blossom. 

That reminded him.

“Did you—have you ever.. —I mean,” He flustered a bit, pulling back to properly face Hijikata. This was something that he forgot to think, it went unnoticed throughout the time he spent with the boy. 

The raven seemed to understand what he was implying as his face also reddened when he realized. “I’m—… no, it’s.. —this is my first…” 

Gintoki swallowed. “I see…” He took a deep breath. “Let me know if it hurts or something…” 

Hijikata gave him a muted nod and he took it as affirmation. He continued his journey in leaving trails of kisses on the other’s skin, nipping at the juncture. His hands sliding downwards, untying Hijikata’s obi and shrugging the robe. He gave Hijikata a fondle and received a sharp gasp in return. He let go for a moment to get the small bamboo tube stashed away with his belongings. He took the lid and poured the thick liquid into his palm before making contact with Hijikata again. The raven eyed him, quiet in his questioning. 

“It’s just oil.” 

“You have that—”

“Those idiots always hide one inside my stuff.” Gintoki kissed Hijikata again as his hand began moving around Hijikata’s length. The raven sighed into his mouth, and Gintoki decided that he liked those noises coming out from the other. He would like to produce more of that kind of noise from Hijikata. 

“Spread your leg.” Hijikata complied, body pliant under Gintoki’s touch. His hand travelled south more before making a stop for the rim. He tested by rubbing the outer side. When he received a shudder from Hijikata, he gingerly pushed a finger in. 

“Gin—” Hijikata suddenly grabbed for his kimono, choking on a sharp gasp when he felt the new sensation.

“Relax,” Gintoki kissed him again as he began prodding inside Hijikata, slowly easing the muscles without making any discomfort. He’d never been this careful, he swore. Even this carefulness was baffling to Gintoki. He was not a careful person at all. 

But this was for Hijikata as much as it was for him. He didn’t want to hurt the boy. 

Slowly adding another finger in, Gintoki paced his entry with the other hand stimulating the boy’s front. Hijikata was slowly turning into a mess whose moans were stifled each time they escaped his lips. His own erection was straining inside his undergarments. Gintoki leaned to nip at Hijikata’s chest, taking one of the buds in his mouth and then licking it. His teeth scraped the skin and Hijikata’s body jerked for a second, caught off-guard by the sensation. 

The more it went, the more strained the Shiroyasha became, and after feeling Hijikata to be loosen enough, Gintoki decided to disrobe as well. He shrugged off his haori and kimono, before untying his hakama. Then he folded his haori and placed the clothing under Hijikata’s hips for support. He saw Hijikata’s eyes going dark as the raven gazed over Gintoki’s erection, which made his own eyes darkened as well. 

He covered his palm with oil again before taking his length in his hand. Gintoki gave it a quick jerk, hissing lowly, and then he aligned the tip with Hijikata’s rim. 

“It’ll sting for a bit, brace yourself.”

Hijikata took a deep breath, and Gintoki eased himself in, plunging into the other’s warmth. Those blue eyes were squeezed shut and his hands were gripping at the sheets underneath him. 

“Breathe, Toushirou,” Gintoki took those hands in his, interlacing their fingers so that Hijikata could grip on him instead. “breathe.” 

Hijikata complied, one huff at a time; Gintoki could feel how tense he was, even more so now that they were connected. He didn’t move, giving the other his much-needed time to adjust with the new sensation, as well as giving the muscles time to ease with his size. They stayed like that for a while, feeling each other’s heartbeats loud against the deafening silence of the night. Their hands remained connected strong, clinging to each other. 

Hijikata was the one who broke the silent. “… Y-you can move,” 

Gintoki kissed Hijikata's temple, and then he started moving his hips. Slow and careful, very unlikely him but this was for Hijikata—Gintoki would give the world to him, if the other ever asked for it. 

Hijikata gradually eased into the pleasure, shifting slightly to match Gintoki’s thrust. The samurai increases their pace incrementally, taking Hijikata’s expression as a hint of what’s alright and not. 

“Gin—” 

He lowered himself, answering Hijikata's call with another kiss, of which he couldn’t help but peppered them across the other’s skin. He let go one of Hijikata's hands to caress his body instead, brushing his thumb across his nipple while taking the other one in between his teeth. Hijikata reacted wonderfully under his touch, it made him more intoxicated than the strongest sake he’d ever drunk. The raven ran his free hand over Gintoki’s silver locks, tousling and gripping whenever the samurai hit the bundle of nerves inside Hijikata. 

Their heat melted into one amalgamation of desperate yearning. Hijikata still tried to stifle his gasps, either by biting at his own lips or covering it with his hand. After the fifth time, Gintoki pried the hand away and kissed his cheek.

“Don’t hold back, I want to hear you.” 

Hijikata tilted his head so that their lips met, he moaned into Gintoki’s mouth as an answer. 

Gintoki then hauled Hijikata up, shifting their positions so that Hijikata was sitting on his lap. The raven shuddered at the feel of Gintoki’s length pushing deeper inside him.

Glistening in sweat, skin that had turned rosy, the ponytail that was falling apart, and above all; those gorgeous deep blue orbs that drowned Gintoki whenever he gazed at it. His hand raised on its own, tucking the loose strands behind Hijikata’s ear. 

Nothing would ever compare to this person right before his very eyes now, nothing would ever be more than this. 

Despite their clumsy movements, awkward pace that had them chasing for pleasure too long already; it was still the best for Gintoki. Nothing compared to the burst of emotion that threatened to overspill from his chest, from being able to hold someone like this, from having someone that could make him feel this much. He wanted to embrace Hijikata forever.

This feeling that he couldn’t name yet, had yet to know the name; he uttered it with the only thing that he knew. 

“ _ Toushirou. _ ”

* * *

The lives of those who fought in the war are forever uncertain. Whether tomorrow will still shine for you, that’s only for Kami-sama to know. When you bleed red in just a single cut, you live no matter what, you strive no matter how hard. Tomorrow will come and if you live just for that, it is more than enough. 

Hijikata was well aware of every single of their numbered lives. He was prepared to die tomorrow if that’s what fate decided for him. Just on one condition that he’d only die before Gintoki, and only by his side. That was his only condition. 

But the samurai was the devil himself, possessing the terrible luck of survival that burdened him the lives of his fallen comrades on his back. 

Because of that, Hijikata never truly let himself immersed in this worry; he was too confident in the Shiroyasha’s immortality. 

He was reminded that they were all human when Sakamoto came back being hauled on a stretcher. A new enemy was released on the frontline, the kinds that they all had never seen nor fought before. Everyone who came back was completely injured or in the brink of death itself. Hijikata saw nothing but rage from the Shiroyasha. It dissipated and Hijikata only saw the flap of his stained white haori in the darkened horizon as the two other generals avenged their comrades. 

Not long after that there was a rushed messenger alerting everyone to evacuate immediately. Hijikata stayed by Sakamoto’s side as they ran away with the rest of the injured samurai. Katsura and his faction defended while the rest escaped. 

He did not hear from the three generals for days afterwards.

When they came back—Hijikata had never seen such a devastating look in all those three samurai. Their clothes were covered in mud. Katsura had never looked so grim. The left side of Takasugi’s face was covered in bandages. Gintoki came back without his sword. 

It was just the three of them, no one else behind. 

Hijikata would learn afterwards from overhearing Katsura’s explanation to Sakamoto that the rest of the samurai were massacred, the three of them were captured and then released. They buried all the fallen men after the enemy left. They lost for good.

And just like that the war ended. It barely felt like any real struggle was made. One day they were fighting for the future of their country, the next day everyone lost hope entirely. Hijikata witnessed the four generals disband the cause and took off on their own paths. Ever since they came back on that day, the three samurai never lost their devastated expression. Nobody talked with each other anymore. The three that Hijikata learned to be the closest, went off separately. 

Takasugi left first, then Katsura left as well. Then Sakamoto left with aiming for space, saying that a new era was approaching. Gintoki was the last one in that abandoned compound. Gintoki and Hijikata.

“Where will we go from now?” He asked the silver haired samurai one night. 

For a while, Gintoki didn’t say anything, only looking at Hijikata from where he sat, leaning on the wooden post. The way Gintoki was looking at him made Hijikata want desperately to hold him, yet the same look also felt so distanced that he wasn’t sure if he’d meet Gintoki if he moved now to approach him. 

“Your brother, he’s very important to you, yeah?” 

Hijikata blinked. 

“Yes. What about him?”

“You should pay him a visit once in a while.” 

What Hijikata interpreted Gintoki’s words at that time was that they were going to visit his brother after this. In his defense, there was never any assumption that they wouldn’t be together forever. They bound their soul after all. They’d share everything and anything from now on. 

“He lives in Bushuu.” 

Gintoki was the one who approached him first, he kissed Hijikata and they carried it to their room. Sharing their last heat in this cold night together. Gintoki kissed him deeply, murmuring so many unconnected words. 

‘I’m sorry’ ‘We’ll meet again’ ‘We’ll find each other’ ‘I’m sorry’ ‘Toushirou’ ‘I’m sorry’

Hijikata woke up alone that morning and he finally understood Gintoki’s words. 

He left behind nothing; he didn’t own anything after all. 

Hijikata belongs to himself. His life was his own. 

He decided to go back to Bushuu. He found his brother and his wife, now living on the outskirts of the village. He didn’t stay, he chose to live on his own. He gained himself a moniker, nothing fancy, but it explained everything about him in just one word. Straightforward, just like the one the Shiroyasha had. 

He met Kondou Isao after being ganged by a handful of samurai. One thing after another, he was invited to his dojo, he became a student. Then they went to Edo, their dojo became a police force, then it became a special police force.

Hijikata became the vice-chief of police. Then he gained his own demonic moniker. 

If he thought about it all, how fitting indeed.

Not long after the formation of Shinsengumi, Hijikata decided to dig around the government papers. Information regarding the Jouishishi and such, the newly formed police force was tasked in dismantling any remnants of those ronin after all. But he dug further, looking for a certain information for his own self. 

He found the thing he looked for written in one of the records. In the list of the remaining rebellion that was captured and beheaded during the last purge after the end of the war, he found Sakata Gintoki written amongst the list of names. 

_ Live a long life _ , Hijikata had always been too naïve.

* * *

No matter how many years it had been, the countless wars that he had fought in—Gintoki was certain of one thing and that was fools will remain unchanged no matter what. He was more than familiar with this philosophy because he was a colossal one himself. And he knew by heart that everyone around him was as foolish as he was. 

The souls of the people who live in Edo will never change. 

Gintoki walked into the Shinsengumi barrack and headed straight to the backyard. He knew by heart that Hijikata would be there because the guy never changed, he always smoked in the backyard of his room. And there he found the man sitting with an ashtray nearby, a lit cigarette already in between his lips. 

“How’s retirement?”

“Like hell there’s retirement for us.” Hijikata scoffed. 

Gintoki sat next to the vice-commander. They remained quiet for a while. Edo was rebuilding itself yet again, everyone else preoccupied with helping here and there. The Yorozuya was absolutely in tatters, took them a while to fix everything up. The Shinsengumi was thankfully mostly intact, the compound was quite far away from the center point of Edo and didn’t take as much damage as everywhere else. But the place was more or less abandoned ever since Hijikata disbanded the police force two years ago, so they had to clean the place and set everything up again. Of course, helping the citizens first, hence the empty barrack now. 

If you think about it, there wasn't much to see from this spot where they were sitting at. Looking straight would just greet you with the walls that enclosed the barrack. There were a couple of pine trees, the garden looked a mess after two years of no managing. But the sky was a nice view, and watching the slow-moving clouds was always a nice way to pass the time. 

“Are we finally gonna talk about it?” Hijikata broke the silent without looking at his direction, huffing out a trail of smoke.

“What’s there to talk?”

“…You could start with an apology.” 

Gintoki closed his eyes, then opened them and looked at his own hands. As he thought, he still remembered the way Hijikata felt in his arms. 

“I don’t think a hundred apologies would be enough.”

“You’re right, it wouldn’t.” 

Gintoki looked from the corner of his eyes at Hijikata who stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray. How many times he wished to hold those hands again, how many years he wasted—

“I thought you were dead. I thought you were just some random NEET who happened to have the same exact perm head and dead-fish eyes.” 

“I’m one of a kind, you know.” 

Hijikata looked at him and the corner of his lips tugged into a small smile; that tugged at Gintoki’s chest as well. 

“You always knew, then?” 

Not even a thousand apologies would be enough. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you didn’t.” 

That’s not an excuse, what sort of half-assed excuse was that—

Hijikata smiled, but it looked more hurtful than joyful. “I’m not even worth lying, then?” 

“That’s not what I—”

“ _ You’re the worst.” _ Gintoki couldn’t argue with that. “But that’s who you are, of course you’re the worst. Hell was our witness, wasn’t it?” 

“Hijikata—”

“I’ll take that Sakata, my offer still stands.” 

Gintoki leaped for the other, they both fell on the wooden floor with Hijikata grunting when his back hit the surface. Gintoki trapped him with his arms on both sides of the other’s head, his eyes wide open at the raven underneath him. Every word felt stuck in his throat. 

“You…”

“Didn’t I say that the answer has always, will always be yes?” His throat tightened and his eyes on the verge of tears when Hijikata laid a hand over his cheek, caressing it. 

“I promised that I will always greet you back, no matter what.” 

“Toushirou…”

“I miss my husband.” 

Gintoki leaned down to kiss him, but then the raven dunked his head on the floor-board and sighed dramatically. “I miss his dick. Honestly, how many years has it been now? I can’t believe he made me wait this long, I’m past my prime already, cut me some slack, dammit.” 

The silver perm head flustered, both from the unexpected comment and his ever-present guilt that had been eating inside him for the past decade. He remained quiet, chewing on the inside of his mouth, Hijikata deserved to bombard him with all the comments that he wanted to make. Gin-san would endure the humiliation. 

But the raven broke into laughter instead, tousling the perm head's hair into even more of a mess than it already was. 

“You really didn’t change at all, still the lamest.” The ruffling turned into Hijikata carding through the locks, combing it back with his fingers. “I miss it.”

Gintoki was captivated by the very thing that made him fall for the first time. It was like experiencing that very moment again. It came out soft and full of memories when he said it. 

“I miss your laughter so much.”

Hijikata smiled, then guided Gintoki to lean down, and they finally kissed again, after the longest separation. Being there but never rekindling, knowing but never confronting; the most foolish of them all. 

“Why now?” Hijikata murmured into Gintoki’s lips and the silver haired man pulled back a bit.

“I felt like I’m finally allowed to come back.” 

“You’re always allowed.”

Gintoki only smiled. He knew that. It was himself that wouldn’t allow it. He hadn’t treasured himself the way Hijikata did for the past decade, he couldn’t return like that. He hadn’t been keeping his promise to Hijikata, there was no way he could return, he couldn’t let Hijikata just accept that pathetic man with open arms like Gintoki hadn’t hurt him. And even know, he knew he was still just as pathetic as before. But at the very least he could say that he was finally able to fulfill that promise. He finally treasured himself.

He kissed him again.

“I’m home, Toushirou.”

“Welcome back.”

**Author's Note:**

> *お嫁さん (oyome-san): bride (referring to the person)
> 
> *抱く (daku) means to embrace or to hold/hug someone, but it is also used to mean wanting to have sex with someone.
> 
> *三三九度 (san san kudo) is a shinto wedding ceremony where you bind before the Gods, it's a sake-sharing ceremony where you drink from three nuptials cups, each taking turn in sipping three times (hence the three-times-three thing). sometimes the parents also take their turns in sipping the sake
> 
> thank you for reading!!


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